Another and Another
by LucklessSlinger
Summary: Tequila: The most thought provoking of alcohol


Disclaimer: I don't own them, just playing with them for a short while

Joe nodded as the familiar figure walked in. Nothing was said as she sat on the stool at the bar. All that was needed was a small look and Joe was reaching for the tequila bottle and pouring a shot for the small figure huddled on the chair. Meredith picked up her glass and tipped the liquid into the back of her throat, the burn of it making no impression on her as she swallowed it.

Shot One

This one was for her mother. The mother who left her alone most of her life, leaving her to come home to a nanny, the only real mother figure she had, who peppered the conversation with bits of Spanish and English, helped her with her math homework but never the science, and always giving pitying looks to the girl. This was for the mother who didn't have time to take her shopping for a prom dress, making her order from a catalogue only to have the dress arrive with the length a little too long and a little too big on her lanky figure. Then there were the report cards, which were never perfect, and were always the perfect opportunity for Ellis Grey to criticize her daughter.

The shot was also for the mother who giggled like a schoolgirl whenever Dr. Webber would visit, but couldn't even identify her daughter in pictures, much less remember her name.

This shot was for the mother she loved, but who never said that she loved her, her own daughter.

Shot Two

Shot two was for her father who couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to know her or not. 'Is there something you need?' he asks as he shuts the door between her and his life, the one he created after he forgot about her. Then he has the nerve to ask George about her. The indecisiveness of this man was working on her last nerve, considering it was years since he even had the right to ask about her. There were days in middle school where parents came in to talk to the kids about their jobs. Her mother could never make it because of work, and when the teacher asked about her father's availability, she had to answer that she hadn't even seen him in years. The teacher sighed and gave a small smile and let the matter slide. She made no cards on father's day, no pieces of paper with hearts and smiley faces that say how much she loved her daddy. There were soccer games, parents cheering on the sidelines, and the fathers always volunteering to coach. Hers was never one of them.

He just never was there. And now he was back, but not really back, just the type that wants to be proud of the intelligent doctor his daughter has become, without taking responsibility of being a true father.

Shot Three

This one was for a comment Alex had made about her being depressed all the time these days and that she needs to get a grip and move on, and wondering if she had always been like this. This shot was for that and the memories it brought back to her, of her party days in college where she used the same methods she used now to cover up her depression back then. Booze, sex, and a scalpel … or more specifically a blade. One night she was so hurt and so angry after a fight with a guy, she took a knife to her legs. The cuts weren't deep and no one ever found out about them. The scars had healed, nothing but a faint line in her skin, and that even when she was naked with some guy, they were unable to see them. But back in college she continued to mark up her legs, her thighs, for a few months until one day she decided to get into therapy. The drunken, blacked out nights and then waking up the next morning to some random guy, leading to her picking up a sharp instrument had to stop. So she dutifully attended therapy and eventually turned her attention back to her studies. It was in therapy one day when they were talking about her future that she came to the decision to become a doctor. Later, when she told her mother about her desire to become a doctor, her mother laughed at her.

Now she was back at square one. And time for another shot.

Shot Four

Shot number four was for the man sitting in the corner booth, staring at her with sad eyes and a longing gaze because he couldn't have her, because he still loved her despite the fact that he was married. She couldn't stand the fact that he continued to drag this on, continued to play with her feelings, even though he was supposedly 'working on his marriage.' She wished he would just stop. Just stop that gaze, the moments in the elevator, the attempt to be 'just friends' and the subtle attempts at flirting. At times she wished he had never come into her life. Other times she was glad that she had the chance to be with him, for that short time, but that inevitably led to her hating him again.

Shot Five

This shot was for everything else. The fact that she hurt George, couldn't stop the bomb from blowing up, the pressures of being an intern, that she couldn't stop the train wreck that was Izzie and Denny, couldn't help Alex deal with Izzie's dismissal of him … couldn't get home without the help of Christina who had just walked into the bar after seeing Meredith's car outside.

She barely pulled herself out of her chair and threw money on the bar for the tequila before she walked out of the bar while leaning heavily on Christina. Neither one of them said anything; neither had to. This was now a nightly behavior for Meredith, and always one of her friends had to get there to pick her up before she went home with another random guy.

Meredith remembered the third shot; the past had come full circle. She had the booze and the men and it was only a matter of time. She knew that she was unable to deal with this herself anymore, that it was simply too much to handle.

"Christina. I need help."

La Fin


End file.
